


Cell Block Tango

by HumptyDumpty



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen, Robert related, whoa there watch your mouth Cersei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-08
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:12:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumptyDumpty/pseuds/HumptyDumpty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had it coming,<br/>he had it coming,<br/>he only had himself to blame.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cell Block Tango

When the screaming woke her up, Cersei wondered whether that was Robert cursing her life from whatever cesspool his soul had migrated to.

If he'd ever had a soul, that was.

But it was Osney's voice, and the only one stuck in a pigsty was herself. She hadn't laughed in so many weeks her voice came out hoarse, almost fake to her ears, and an abrupt coughing fit struck her before she could get used to it again. How quite ridiculous in its own way. And after all, somebody was indeed cursing her from a cesspool, a cesspool as holy as merely the seven hells could match. It truly was such a poor thing Osney Kettleblack hadn't reached them yet. What difference would it have made to him? But it was vital to her. In the literal sense. If that failure of a man didn't stop singing marvellously like an eunuch, he would end up ratting her perfect plan, and it wasn't something she could say she doubted about. All men were, oh, pitiful weaklings. Their last hope had died already, simply leaving a terrible smell of crap as his last will. 

Cersei burst into the most grotesque cackle. She was allowing her thoughts too much freedom that night, how unroyal. She couldn't help it when Robert was on her mind, though. It was all Robert's fault. He had started everything. He had spoilt her. He had corrupted her and left her behind to rot. If a praying mantis, a lesser being, can kill, if a dog can bark and bite, didn't he think a lion would be fiercer?

He couldn't have known. He had never, not even once, looked at her, for he had been that sort of a terrible fool. She could've given him something Rhaegar Targaryen would never lay his hands on, but he'd looked down on it. Spit on it. Thrown it away. And he was dead. She was still standing, as crooked as she was.

Somehow she imagined Robert would have, at least, glimpsed at her now. He was a real king, fond of his people from the very bottom of his heart. Beggars, tramps, he loved the unfortunate. He would have loved her too, just this time. Maybe even remembered her name before having the sleep wash it away. It wouldn't have changed a thing. 

She was so awfully gleeful he was dead, so satisfied of herself, she was on the verge of calling out for a septa and yell it, flaunt it, scream and scream and scream her lungs out and back inside and out again and rinse repeat forever. _I killed him! He wanted the dead, I gave him death!_

_I loved him once!_

But they could oppress her, humiliate her, torture her, there were things she'd never say.

**Author's Note:**

> Reasons why I shouldn't be allowed to watch musicals when I'm stuck in bed with a temperature.


End file.
